


The Mysterious Castle

by tellmesomethingnew



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, One Shot, Samhain, Samhain 2018, Shameless Smut, Sibling Incest, tomionekinkmeme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 13:18:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16409267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tellmesomethingnew/pseuds/tellmesomethingnew
Summary: Tom, the brother she never knew she had, was a man with two sides to him, and Hermione is the only one alive to see both. Just when everyone is finally starting to act like a family, they’re invited to the exclusive, annual Samhain Masquerade ball held at the old Hogwarts castle many have rumored to be haunted. While Tom and Hermione fight for the strange, unnatural feelings that they can’t help but feel for one another, Hermione begins to see strange things while attending the ball. The interesting part? All of the strange happenings seem to point their fingers at Tom.





	The Mysterious Castle

* * *

 

**** There were two sides to Tom that Hermione, for some crazy reason, had the pleasure of seeing. There was the side of Tom when he was at school, the way he was around his so-called friends, his teachers, and their parents. And then there was the side that Hermione was convinced, whether it was in vain or not, that was only for her in private. He was popular at school, though he didn’t play lacrosse or any other of the extra sports for after school. He didn’t waste his time with cheerleaders or girls flaunting over their own family’s money that would be sending them to Oxford or Cambridge after graduation. He was smart, drooled over for his good looks, and he didn’t have many friends with how his personality came about in public. Sure, he was your basic teacher’s pet, but he was cold, distant, and he wasn’t friendly. To Hermione, it seemed as if Tom thought everyone to be below him. That was what had first made her skeptical when her mother had let him into their house.

“He’s, well, you’re half-brother,” her mother had explained to her the day Tom had shown up at their house. 

That was the same day that it felt as if Hermione had been living a lie. She thought her mother and father had truly loved each other their entire time together. Hermione was born just shy of four years after they had been married. Tom was born just a year before her, when her mother had hit a rough patch with her father in the early years of their marriage. 

The Granger household had always been peaceful and quiet, and Hermione had always been an only child...up until that day.

Tom was born unwanted, to be frank. The minute he left their mother’s womb, he was passed off to a couple unable to conceive, who truly loved him up until a car accident had left them dead and Tom alone in his final few years until adulthood said he could be on his own. Tom, once a Riddle, was then switched over to a Granger, and he wasn’t pleased about it in the least. Then again, who would be in the wake of the death of their loving adoptive parents and then being transferred to the  mother who didn’t want them initially?

His bitterness towards Mrs. Granger was clear as crystal when the social workers dropped him off, regardless of how much his maternal mother made it obvious she was regretful and wanted him to be fully apart of the family. 

Hermione could remember so vividly of the moment they met.

Tom stood awkwardly in the entry hall of the Granger household while Mrs. Granger fussed all around him, taking his bags, passing them off to their housekeeper to take up to his temporary bedroom. His arrival was so sudden that there hadn’t been left any time to properly clean, tidy up, and restore the old unused guest bedroom. Until it would be ready for him, he was going to share Hermione’s bedroom.

The twisted part was that Hermione didn’t even know of Tom’s arrival, nor his existence. So, it was natural for her to think, as she descended down upon the stairs and laid eyes on Tom, that he was another one of her mother’s picked conquests for Hermione to date, even though Hermione had sat down with her mother and stressed how much she wish she’d stop it. The Grangers, who came from old money, thought it odd of Hermione to not have a boyfriend yet even in just her junior year at school after all. 

“And who might you be?” Hermione asked with a half-smirk.  _ Poor boy _ , she thought to herself jokingly. Maybe he had to pass from conquesting mothers to the next like the others boys being passed to Hermione as of late.

Her ballet flats softly hit the bottom step just as her mother came rushing in, ignoring Hermione.

“Oh Tom! Take your shoes and coat off! Make yourself at home, please!” There was a rare mothering tone in Mrs. Granger’s voice that made Hermione pause and furrow her eyebrows together in both confusion and curiosity.

And then her mother noticed her, and told her all she needed to know as she took Tom’s coat from him and led him into the kitchen, muttering how he must be hungry from the train ride. 

That night, when Hermione was going to get ready for bed, she felt like it was an intruder in her own home. Nothing felt right about Tom. The couch in her bedroom had been smothered in sheets, blankets, and pillows for him. With the busy school days and meetings her parents had in the following days, she wondered if it would take longer than it should for his room to be ready for him. It was only the first night and she already wanted her room all to herself again.

Clad in her matching pajama set, sitting in bed and failing to focus on the open book in her lap, her eyes kept raising to follow Tom around her room. Dinner had been late due to his arrival, so it wasn’t until after dessert and the entire family sat down to talk and learn about Tom, the hour had turned late and it was time for bed. 

Tom busied himself with going through the few bags he brought with himself, trying to gather his toothbrush, his pajamas, and whatever else. He was dressed in clean slacks and a worn emerald green oxford shirt rolled up at the sleeves. He looked casual and handsome, Hermione thought.

_ How could mother keep him a secret _ ? She wondered as she sighed and put her book off to the side when Tom paused to look around her room, get a feel for it.  _ How could father be okay with this? _

His eyes fell onto her, his face unreadable. “You have a nice room,” he said as he licked his lips and pointed to her personal book collection. Half of the wall his temporary bed laid against was a built-in bookshelf filled with piles of books from history to novels. “I know this is bold of me to ask, but might I read some of your books sometime?”

_ He likes to read too _ , she thought with a light heart. The boy had just lost his parents. He was clearly unhappy to be there, living under a roof that wasn’t too keen on his existence. It was natural for Hermione to feel sympathy for him.

“Of course,” Hermione said as she cleared her throat and settled herself into her bed, pulling out her phone to check it before she would plug it in for the night to charge.

Tom stared at Hermione for a moment, and when she looked back at him again, he offered her a very faint, but soft smile. She never thought she’d make a new friend that night, let alone a brother.

 

* * *

 

The day that Hermione’s best friend met her brother, was the day that Tom had also gotten into his first fight at school. As Hermione had suspected, things had been busy at the Granger household for the first week of Tom’s appearance and there had been no sign of Tom’s room being ready any time soon, even when the Housekeeper Minerva had managed to find free time in between taking over cooking, keeping the main part of the house tidy and clean, and what not to start sorting through the junk that had been stored in Tom’s room for an unknown time.

Ginny Weasley had been Hermione’s best friend since day one of middle school over a chance encounter before school started. They instantly clicked and nothing had gotten in the way of them since. Ginny was a quiet, soft-spoken girl that when provoked, was, if not more, headstrong like Hermione. She was the only girl at school with red hair, which set her apart from everyone else, and was also the school’s wallflower. She heard and understood everything that went on around her when everyone suspected her to be an invisible nobody. 

It wasn’t a good first impression, Tom fighting Ginny’s older brother, Fred. Had Fred’s twin brother George not been there, the fight might have lead to expulsion for Tom in his first week. 

That night, when Tom sat quietly at the dinner table, getting lectured from Mr. Granger, it was starting to set in for Hermione how real it was -- having a brother. She read his body language, how agitated he was for how Mr. Granger was talking to him. He could have simply said to the man that he wasn’t his father, but Hermione found a tremendous amount of respect for Tom when he, instead, softly put his napkin down by his plate and asked the be excused, just halfway through his plate of food.

Hermione sighed and looked down at her own plate, suddenly feeling full.

“Hermione, honey, did you at least have a good day at school?” Mrs. Granger asked her daughter after the silence became too much for her.

Hermione offered a tight smile. “It was fine,” she answered.

Skipping dessert, regardless of Minerva’s famous apple pie Hermione loved so dearly, she had one thing set in mind. She excused herself and followed after Tom.

Tom was packing his bags when Hermione found him. Her eyes instantly widened, realizing just what he was doing.

“Tom, what are you doing?” Hermione asked, her voice breathy as she stormed over to him.

Tom’s stormy eyes met with Hermione’s and his dark hair was disheveled over part of his face. In the faint lighting of Hermione’s nightstand lamp, he was a beautiful boy. He sat knelt in front of his temporary bed, stuffing his things messily into his bags and Hermione was scared.

“I’m clearly not wanted here-” he began in a shaky voice filled with so much emotion before Hermione reached out and grabbed his hand, causing him to stop.

His eyes stared down where her hand cupped the top of his. His hand was slender and warm and hers, soft and loving.

“Please, don’t do this, Tom. He does the same thing to me when I do something wrong. He was just trying to parent you. Whether you like it or not, they both want you here, Tom. I want you here,” Hermione said quickly.

Tom continued to stare at her and she watched as his eyes roamed her face, drinking in her emotions, reading her like an opened book. And for just a moment, Tom stared for too long. His eyes were soft, his gaze almost invasive and what Hermione could only describe as intimate. 

Hermione took half a breath and pulled her hand away. She licked her lips and looked away, missing the way Tom’s eyes followed her tongue’s movement. 

“Hermione Granger, Miss Perfect, when have you ever gotten yourself into trouble?” Tom asked with a half-sneer, his mood starting to change.

Hermione scoffed and shook her head. “More times than I can count. Just, please, stay,” Hermione said as she managed to look at him once more as she raised herself to standing upright again.

He looked up at her through his dark lashes and smirked at her. “Hermione saying please to me?” he questioned. His voice had turned from cold and emotional to teasing and adoring. Hermione was lucky to be able to turn him away from his upsetness. “Though I’m rather curious. I can’t see you do anything sinful or bad,” Tom commented.

Hermione shook her head at him once more. “You’d be surprised, then, because I’m no angel.” she said, feeling proud of herself for cheering up her brother.

“Now I want to know. Won’t you share your secrets with me?” Tom asked as he raised himself to his feet and dumped his bag onto his temporary bed to sort and put back.

Her entire body was on fire as she realized what she was about to do. She was about to share secrets with him only Ginny and her brothers knew about. “I’ve gotten drunk, I’ve tried drugs, I’ve lost my virginity, and I’ve skipped homework before,” she listed off in a smaller voice. 

The way she spilled her secrets, however, suggested that it wasn’t easy for her to do. After all, in the short time Tom had known her, he could see just how much of a good girl and rule-follower Hermione was.

Tom’s eyebrows raised as Hermione walked away from him. He was thoroughly impressed, though refused to say anything. He didn’t have to.

Hermione felt her cheeks reden and she picked up a half-read book that had been sitting on her nightstand and curled up in bed to read until it was time to bathe before bed while Tom unpacked and kept stealing silent glances at Hermione set in a strangely-comfortable silence.

 

* * *

 

The second month of Tom’s existence in the Granger family, the invitation arrived. They still had over a month to prepare for it, but just like every year before since Hermione could remember, the entire Granger family had been invited to the annual Samhain Masquerade Ball at the alluring Hogwarts Castle just set casting over the little town of Hogsmeade. Every year, Hermione went and tried to busy herself with having fun to look beyond how creepy the castle was, and it looked like she would have to endure it once more, not that she truly minded. Her father’s work ran the ball, so it was expected for Hermione and her mother to attend with him. After all, the invitations were exclusive. If anyone outside of her father’s work circle wanted in, they’d have to pay a fortune. Some of Europe did, which was the craziest part.

“Masquerade ball?” Tom asked Hermione with slight disgust as he read over the fancy parchment paper. He wasn’t sure what the invitation felt more like, a historical piece from the 1800s or a very carefully-crafted, very expensive movie prop. 

“We go every year,” Hermione said after they had gotten home from school and finished their homework together.

Tom read over the letter as he mindlessly followed Hermione around the house. She was headed for the attic, taking the narrow, twisted staircase up to a dusty, short room filled with countless old boxes of different shapes and sizes. 

Tom looked up and his eyes wandered around the attic. Mrs. Granger was off in the farthest corner, ripping open a box and coughing at the dust she kicked up doing so. 

“We’ll most definitely get Tom an outfit. We can go shopping this weekend,” said Mrs. Granger as she pulled out untouched, beautiful costume pieces. “See if this still fits, Hermione,” she then said as she pulled out a red and golden gown and tossed it over at Hermione, who caught it easily.

Hermione was usually good on judging. The past two years she had worn the same costume, but this year she was hopeful for something new. She held it up to her frame by the bodice and sighed. The costume gods were in her favor. There was no way in hell she’d fit into the gown anymore.

Mrs. Granger didn’t have to hear Hermione to know. She looked and saw. She pursed her lips and put her fists onto her hips, tilting her head to the side in deep thought. 

“Why don’t we all go for a new costume this year? Maybe we could go for a theme?” Mrs. Granger asked.

Hermione smiled and looked over at Tom. “Tom should be the judge of what theme!” she suggested, wanting to help Tom truly feel apart of the family.

Tom watched Hermione and couldn’t help but crack a small smile at her enthusiasm. He didn’t get to see it often outside of talking about books or history. 

“Okay, what’s your favorite color, Tom?” their mother asked.

Tom hesitated and looked at his mother, shrugging as he buried his hands into the pockets of his dark gray trousers.

“He wears a lot of green,” Hermione pointed out.

“Green would surely be a nice change of pace from reds. Perfect! Now, should we do silver or golden to accentuate the green?” Mrs. Granger asked as Hermione tossed the old gown back to her mother and watched her close back up the box she had opened.

Mrs. Granger walked through the sea of boxes over to the two with a soft chuckle. “You know what, why don’t you two go out and get some ideas? Since Halloween is right around the corner, I’m sure there are costume shops already filled up with pieces ready for the holiday.”

The amount of excitement heard in their mother’s voice put a feeling in Hermione’s stomach. She couldn’t remember the last time her mother seemed this excited and happy about something, let alone letting Hermione pick things out for the occasion. It was a joy to her.

“We can go tomorrow after school!” Hermione said as she turned to Tom. She didn’t realize how close they were in the cramped space of the attic. 

Tom looked down at Hermione as she realized just how tall he was, looming over her at about five extra inches. “Yeah, we could do that,” he said softly to her. They were so close that his breath hit her face and her lips formed a thin line at the scent of cinnamon and mint. 

“Look at you two. I can’t believe how you two have connected so fast and easily. I’m truly thankful for this,” Mrs. Granger said as she gently touched Tom’s shoulder and turned off the ceiling light. 

Tom and Hermione followed their mother out of the attic, down the stairs, and to the second floor of the house. The entire time down the stairs, Tom had his hand on Hermione’s back.

 

* * *

 

Hermione was gently pulled from her sleep at the sensation of her bed dipping, and a warm, hard body wrapping around her. In the haze of her sleep, she smelled Tom and looked up at him in the faint moonlight of her room. His heart was beating fast, she noted, as he pressed her head against his chest and held her body firmly to his. 

She was so tired, so comfortable, feeling so peaceful that she refused to kick her brother out of her bed and instantly found sleep again.

That night, she dreamed they they were naked instead of clothed, and Hermione would feel ashamed of herself when she’d wake.

 

* * *

 

As soon as school had ended and Tom had met up with Hermione at her locker, the two took a cab into the city and walked around until they’d find costume shops and any shop that specialized in tailored dresses for special events. The Grangers had the money for tailors, Hermione had to assure Tom, when they set foot into the first tailor shop and he started complaining about the costs.

A few hours had passed and their heads were swimming with ideas. Hermione kept a notepad with stores, prices, color options, and a matching family attire idea Tom had come up with. 

When Hermione and Tom had entered a small cafe to grab a snack before they’d head home and wait for dinner, a man cat-called Hermione on his way out the door, harassing her until Tom possessively wrapped his arm around his little sister and glared at the man coldly until he backed off and disappeared out on the streets. It all had happened so fast that Hermione hadn’t the time to be offended as Tom yanked her to him and she stumbled into his side for support. 

She looked up at him and he looked down at her, his harsh features softening as he eyes fell to her lips.

_ This is wrong _ , she said to herself as she wondered about his lips and how they would be to kiss. She had been with other boys before, she had the experience.  _ But he’s my brother _ , she then added as she cleared her throat, despite her blushing, and pushed off of him when she found her footing.

She went ahead of him to the line inside the cafe and pulled out her wallet, suddenly no longer hungry. She knew she’d have to eat, so she wasted no time in ordering a bagel and let Tom order whatever he wanted.

 

* * *

 

After the two had gone over costume ideas with their parents like partners in crime, the two hastily finished their dessert and retreated to Hermione’s room. The evening had fallen chilly, so Hermione pulled out her winter nightgown. It was a long-sleeved gown that reached her knees. It was white with soft ruffles at the neck. It was the comfy thermal-like material of it that made it the best for her to sleep in as opposed to her flannel shorts and matching short sleeve button down she had as her usual pajama set. 

Tom lounged on his bed and read a book while Hermione dug through her closet and tried to think of what she was going to wear to school the following day with her usual uniform that consisted of a dark gray skirt, stark white oxford, and a matching dark gray knit sweater vest. 

“I think I’ll have to remind Minerva about your bedroom. It should have been ready by now,” Hermione said to break the silence that was turning awkward.

Hermione heard the soft sound of a book closing from behind her, and then heard Tom’s shoes against the wood flooring.

“Have I done something wrong?” Tom asked innocently. His voice was low and soft as he came up from behind her. 

Hermione opened her mouth for a moment, not exactly sure what she was going to say. She sighed and turned around and looked up at Tom through her thick, long eyelashes. “Are we going to talk about last night?” Hermione asked him in a lowered voice. She didn’t want anyone, not even eavesdropper Minerva, to hear them.

Tom smirked. “I was cold and I couldn’t sleep. That couch hurts my back,” he complained.

Hermione tilted her head. “All the more reason for you to have your bedroom ready. The bed will be better for you there.”

Tom took a step closer to Hermione, his eyes boring into hers. It was so intimate, the way he looked at her, that she had trouble breathing as her chest suddenly felt constricted with conflict where there should be room for air. He reached up and touched a strand of her thick, wavy hair. Doing so caused his knuckle to  _ accidentally _ brush against her exposed collarbone from where she had lazily unbuttoned the top of her school shirt as she was going to get ready to shower. Her sweater vest had already been pulled off and put in to be washed. He left a trail of blazing fire behind on her skin. 

“You’re so warm, Hermione. I can’t help myself. You’re all I can think about,” he told her. 

Before Hermione could even prepare herself, he shot forward and pressed his lips against hers. For just a weak moment, Hermione thought about kissing him back, but before she could do so, she pushed him off of her, her eyes wide with shock.

“This isn’t right, Tom,” she whispered to him shakily.

Tom reached down and began unbuttoning her shirt. “Who cares if it isn’t?” he whispered back, continuing to unbutton her shirt, slowly, languidly as he leaned in to kiss her again.

Hermione’s chest rose and fell deeply, her body filled with conflict. It wasn’t right, it truly wasn’t. They were half-siblings. But he was so damn sexy, so intoxicating, and she honestly wanted him to kiss her again. It wasn’t until her shirt had been completely unbuttoned and pried apart to reveal Hermione’s breasts clad securely in her white cotton bra that she had broken from the spell and come to her senses enough to push him away before his eyes could wander any longer and he could kiss her away from her senses. 

She brushed past him, pulled her oxford together to cover herself back up to grab her nightgown and a fresh pair of underwear.

“I need to shower.” She needed a  _ cold _ shower.

Tom remained in his own bed that night, and Hermione was both disappointed and grateful. Her body longed for him. Her teenage hormones were getting the best of her and she just couldn’t be helped. 

 

* * *

 

The two were distant for the following weeks, even through studying for tests, through their schoolwork, through getting fitted for their designed costumes, and even through the obvious sexual tension that hung so thickly between them that it could be cut with a knife. They made sure they acted typically normal in front of their friends and parents. It was inevitable that it wouldn’t last for long.

There came a night where Tom had enough, even when Hermione was too shy and scared to act out on her having enough just as well. 

When the house had gone quiet and everyone had gone to bed, Tom stripped himself down to just his boxers and climbed into Hermione’s bed. 

Immediately, Hermione woke to the intrusion of someone else in her bed. She turned her head over to look at Tom and found herself met with his angry, deep, and hungry kiss. Despite being pulled from her sleep, she managed to quickly act on the kiss as he sucked on her bottom lip, slipped his tongue between her lips, and pulled her body tight against his as she turned to fully face him. 

She kissed him back hungrily, with a feral drive that made her hands roam his smooth chest all the way down to where his hardness throbbed against the restraints of his underwear. He moaned into their kiss as she cupped his hardness and rubbed her palm against it.

His hands greedily sought out her breasts, yanking the fabric of her nightgown down enough to pop a plump breast free. He abandoned her lips and attached his lips to her nipples soon after, sucking and making her wriggle as he set her entire body on fire with a wanton need. Her pussy was throbbing and her clit was aching to be touched. As soon as she yanked his boxers down to free his erection, she wrapped her hand around it and pumped it lazily as he finally slid a hand down to pull up the hem of her nightgown up until he threw it to her floor and dipped his hand beneath the waistband of her panties. 

Everything after that was a blur. She remembered wanting to pull him off of her when she got close to cumming and he had pulled his hand away to make her hold herself onto that edge. For a moment, she had come to her senses, but only partially. She was ripped back from her senses when he climbed on top of her, ripped her panties apart, and quickly slid himself into her slick opening to immediately begin fucking her roughly.

The pleasure was so intense, so much, that she thought,  _ fuck it _ , and wrapped her arms around him and tried her hardest not to make a sound loud enough for anyone but them to hear until he made her come finally and she felt him orgasm onto her exposed stomach.

 

* * *

 

Hermione was one hell of a furious woman the next morning when the two had to get up for school. Somewhere in the middle of the night, Tom had redressed and crawled back to his own bed and Hermione tossed and turned, continuously falling asleep and waking back up until the sun began to rise and Minerva knocked loudly on the door to wake the two up and get ready for breakfast.

“That will  _ never _ happen again,” Hermione said with so much anger and so much hostility as she yanked her clean sweater vest over her head so roughly she almost ripped the poor, innocent fabric. 

She wasn’t so much angry at Tom. No, it was next to impossible to be mad at him. It was more that she was mad at herself for what she had let him do to her against her better judgement. 

Tom’s good mood faltered at her scalding emotions, and of course he believed it was all his fault.

“You should have told me to stop,” he grumbled as he buttoned up his oxford.

That fueled her rage more, but Hermione refused to let out any words she’d never mean and later regret. 

 

* * *

 

Weeks passed by until Hermione’s mood began to simmer towards Tom. He kept his distance, and they went back to how things were before when they first began to know one another. Ginny, of course, was worried sick about Hermione when she noticed the shift in her mood. She knew her best friend like the back of her hand. Even when Hermione was faking nice, she could see the blood boiling beneath her best friend’s skin. The fact that Hermione refused to tell Ginny why she was feeling that way nearly sent her into a frenzy that almost costed them their friendship.

“Something is bothering you, ‘Mione. Why won’t you tell me?” Ginny begged during their lunch hour.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest with a haughty sigh, her eyes moving past her to the table where Tom sat and watched her. She shook her head and looked down at her untouched plate of food.

“Ginny. It truly means the world to me how much you care about me,” Hermione started before she leaned forward into her chair and gave Ginny a soft look, “but you need trust me when I say it really  _ is _ nothing.”  _ Nothing happened.  _

Ginny watched Hermione closely for a moment before her whole body relaxed and she nodded her head. “Okay, Hermione,” she said before she tilted her head. “You know I trust you.”

That only made Hermione feel nothing but guilt.

 

* * *

 

The night of the Masquerade ball had finally arrived at the Granger household, and the large house was busy. Mr. and Mrs. Granger helped each other out with getting into their costumes. Tom was on his own and Hermione had Ginny over to help her get ready. She didn’t trust herself alone with Tom, with him close to help her into her gown, mainly for what might transpire if they were left alone for so long.

Ginny went down to the kitchen to see what Minerva had been working on for dinner to bring up to Hermione and Tom to eat while they finished getting ready. Hermione had been working on her makeup, her black mask sitting at the edge of her vanity and she tried to focus on blending out her foundation when Tom was slowly getting himself ready, watching her as always. Not only could she sense his eyes on her, but she could see, from the corner of her eye, him staring at her in the reflection of her mirror.

“Stop that,” Hermione murmured finally. It was the first word she had spoken to him in private in over a month for the fear he’d hear how she felt. She was nearly an open book to him after all.

“Stop what?” Tom asked too innocently as he adjusted his pristine collar. 

Hermione sat her foundation  brush down and looked between her small collection of makeup palettes, deciding what colors to go with for eyeshadows, blush, and highlighter. She’d go heavy on her silver highlighter to add to the effect of her gown. Not only did she want to appear regal, but also whimsical. 

“You’re always watching me,” Hermione said as she put aside a palette and looked through her brush collection for a fluffy crease brush.

“I can’t take my eyes off of you,” Tom replied in a more serious tone, defense at the edge of his voice.

Hermione froze and looked up at Tom’s reflection. Her stomach dropped and she rested her hands down onto the vanity before she shook her head and forced her eyes away. 

“Stop,” she said as she quickly applied the rest of her makeup. 

By the time her look was put together, she rose to her feet and looked to her gown hanging from her closet door. She was wrapped in her fluffy rose-pink robe, her body clad in a gentle corset and breeches to add to the effect of the gown. A shadow of her perfect cleavage showed from the collar of her robe. She decided she’d need Ginny to help her get into the costume.

Tom blocked her path at the doorway and Hermione sighed impatiently. He would never give up and it was positively infuriating.

“Did mom and dad tell you?” he asked her in a low voice.

Hermione looked up at him darkly. “Tell me what?”

Tom leaned against the doorway, his eyes sliding down to her chest. “My room will be ready for me to move into tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll be glad to not see me before you fall asleep and when you wake up,” he said in a low voice.

Hermione couldn’t bring herself to say she wasn’t glad to hear the news, that even though she regretted what had happened that one night, she still enjoyed every waking moment they spent alone together in her bedroom. Of course, she didn’t have to say it. Tom could see it in her body language, the hitch of her breath, the disappointment in her soft brown eyes. 

His hand reached out and softly touched the perked curves of her cleavage, deliberately pulling the robe more open. 

“It kills me to see you in that thing. I need to fuck you again,” he said as Hermione watched his eyes dilate and heard his voice turn into something husky and dangerous.

There was a coiled strand of hair hanging over Hermione’s one ear from her careful updo Ginny had been so amazing at procuring. It was the same she had done for the past year’s winter formal. She tucked it behind her ear and licked her lips. 

Tom caught her chin and tilted it up to quickly brush his lips across hers. 

The burning desire she had felt for him days ago, when he fucked her, returned to her between her legs and she had to fight off the feeling.

One kiss surely couldn’t harm.

So she kissed him back, moving her lips against his. Her breath turned heavy quickly and she rested her hands on his chest to steady herself. It had felt like an eternity since they had last kissed and as his lips quickened against hers, she realized how starved she was of feeling him again. His lips slid down her chin, over to her jaw, down her neck, to the peak of her cleavage as he reached a hand out and softly clicked the door shut, trapping her in privacy with him.  A soft whimper gurgled in her throat. She was mindful to not let it out for fear of anyone else in the house hearing them.

His hands grasped firmly to her waste and he moaned at her faint whimper. He soon pulled himself up and cupped her face, resting his forehead against hers.

“I need you, I want you, Hermione,” he whispered to her, as if he were some broken sex addict. Maybe he was just an addict of her entirely.

She couldn’t deny the twirling feeling inside her stomach at his words and as with shaky hands, Tom pried apart her robe. She stood there and let him.

“We can be quiet and quick, no one would have to know,” Tom whispered to her, yanking her breeches down to expose her glistening sex. 

One fuck surely couldn’t harm. 

It would be the last time, Hermione promised herself as her hands reached for his belt and undid it as quickly as his hand reached between her thighs and felt for her wetness. He gasped as his fingers, slick with her juices, found her swollen, attention-deprived clit and worked her deeper into a frenzy. It was beginning to become hard for Hermione to breathe in the confines of her corset, and that had somehow made everything, even the moment, feel so much more intense and rushed.

When Hermione felt the beginning of her orgasm build, Tom pulled away, just as Hermione was about to wrap her slender hand around his hardened length. She itched to feel just how badly he did want her. Would he already have a drop of precum at his tip? Would he be pulsating for her just as she was for him?

Tom swung her around and pressed her against the wall and he jammed himself into her, not even needing a moment to find her opening. It was her wetness that had guided him to where she wanted him most. One hand held her waist firmly, the other wrapping around to cover her mouth the moment she had let out a dangerous noise. She pried her own legs apart for as far as they would go in her corset, urging him in deeper and deeper as he bucked his hips so quick and diligently. And  _ fuck _ , did it feel good. At that angle, the way he fucked her, her g-spot was getting the attention it needed, he was able to fill her up to the brim with his throbbing cock, and it was a glorious feeling. She never wanted it to end, she never wanted him to stop, but it had to.

Ginny’s footsteps sounded against the staircase when Hermione began to feel the build of her orgasm. Ginny was on her way back up from the kitchen. Suddenly severely annoyed and fuming with rage of the disruption, Hermione pushed Tom off of her and reached for her robe, yanking it back on and closed after she had pulled her breeches back up and Tom had turned away from her to gather his hardness leaking of precum back into the confines of his pants.

He cleared his throat and softly turned away from Hermione as she opened the door before Ginny would round the hallway and find it closed.

Hermione stole a glance from Tom before Ginny returned with a plate of food for the two of them. The dangerous look in Tom’s dilated cold eyes promised Hermione something intense.

It was the promise that he wasn’t closed to being finished with her.

 

* * *

 

Hogwarts was a castle built over thousands of years ago, roughly around 993 AD, from what Hermione had remembered reading when a small-town author from Hogsmeade had written a history book about the place. History had always fascinated Hermione, which was one of the reasons she honestly enjoyed bits and pieces of her annual visits to the castle for the Samhain Ball, regardless of how chilling the place was. The fact that a castle, so old, and probably haunted, was able to be visited on a day where it was believed spirits were able to walk among everyone, that made the experience all the more thrilling and fearful to Hermione.

The Grangers were quite a sight for the ball, when they entered. A majority of the attendees who were already hovering around the Great Hall of the castle where the party always took place with fine glass goblets of champagne and alcohol-filled pumpkin juice stopped and stared.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger were arm-in-arm, the love for one another clear as day. Mr. Granger wore a classic tux, however his tie was silver. careful evergreen embroidery speckled it like freckles of beautiful floral. His mask was of a black leaf-like lace that almost nearly matched Hermione’s mask, as well as Mrs. Granger’s, but was outlined in a silver similar to his tie. The silver of his tie matched that of Tom’s mask, which was a plain silver mirror-like mask. Mrs. Granger wore a gown of evergreen with black lace at the shoulders. A beautiful silver ribbon held her gown laced up at the back, ending at a large bow at the bottom of her bodice where her skirts started. Hermione’s dress was different. Evergreen, as well, but to match the black satin leaf-shaped mask that surrounded her eyes, the heart-shaped bust of her dress sat edged in a similar black satin leafing barely concealing the cleavage the tightness of her dress added on top of her corset. Her shoulders were wrapped in a luxurious midnight black shawl that was intended to protect her shoulders from the harsh autumn evening’s coldness. It was clear as day to everyone there at the ball watching, Hermione wasn’t a little girl anymore. It was a miracle that Mrs. Granger had even let the dress design to go through with after Tom suggested it and Hermione had decided how she wanted the dress to fit her. Tom wore a tux just like Mr. Granger’s, only he wore a bowtie of the same evergreen as Hermione’s dress. 

It wasn’t until she saw Tom’s eyes hungrily rake over her after Ginny had finished putting her in the dress, that Hermione realized why she wanted the seamstress to make the dress fit as such. She wanted to tease Tom. She wanted him to want her, and it worked far earlier than her originally making him want her without her even realizing it.

“Mallory! Edward! I’m so delighted you made it!” came a familiar voice. 

An older man dressed in a simple black tux and wearing a cool-toned gray lace mask that stood out from his long gray hair and beard ducked between people to get over to the family. Hermione recognized him as her father’s employer, Albus Dumbledore. Hermione admired him greatly, not just because he had played a big role in her father’s career, but because he had always been kind to Mr. Granger and the family. There were oftentimes where Hermione saw him as a grandfather instead of a family friend. 

“Hermione, you look so beautiful,” he said as he took Hermione’s hand in his, shaking it softly and warmly. “And this must be the Tom I’ve been hearing so much about,” he said after he let go of Hermione’s hand and outstretched it for Tom to shake.

Tom offered a polite, patronizing smile and shook Dumbledore’s hand for a brief moment.

“Well help yourselves to the party. We have our beverages and oidurves on the table over there,” Dumbledore said as he pointed to the left of the Great Hall, “and we have a band taking requests over there,” he added as he pointed to the end of the Great Hall. 

Grand chandeliers looking hundreds of years old hung from the tall ceiling of the Great Hall, illuminating the area softly with hundreds of candles in their holders covered in hanging glass diamonds. It was clear that the ones who were in charge of the Samhain ball spared no expense and made sure it truly felt like the exclusive party that it was. The lack of strong electric lighting had given off a haunting, warm lighting. 

“Do you mind if I give Tom a tour of the castle?” Hermione asked both Dumbledore and her parents. 

Mr. Granger chuckled. It was a kind of chuckle he only belted out a few times in the year when he truly felt relaxed and at peace around his family -- truly happy. It was a chuckle that always heightened Hermione’s good mood.

“Mingle first,” Mrs. Hermione said as she motioned to the Great Hall. “Why don’t you two dance? Enjoy the party.”

“Hermione loves wandering off and exploring the castle,” said Mr. Granger to Tom.

“Yes, mingle first. And you know the extent of where you’re allowed,” Dumbledore said as she pointed his finger at Hermione, wearing a soft but stern look.

Hermione offered him a sweet smile. “I know, I understand,” she said.

Dumbledore wished them fun and went off to greet the next family that had showed up. 

“May I have this dance?” Mr. Granger asked as he courteously bowed to his wife and offered a hand.

Hermione watched Mrs. Granger blush under her mask, taking her husband’s hand with a giggle as he pulled her over to the dance floor where hundreds of round tables and chairs decorated, surrounding the empty dance space. 

“Do you suppose we should dance?” Tom asked Hermione as both of their eyes explored the Great Hall, taking in the sights, the smells, the atmosphere.

Hermione shrugged as a server came by and offered to take her shawl for her. She let him take it where he would put it where they usually keep the guest’s coats. She would make a mental note to make sure she would get it later before she’d leave. 

Without her shawl, she felt like a sexualized girl exposed. Before she could cross her arms over herself which were covered in black silk gloves all the way up to her elbows, Tom took her hand. 

“They suggested it, why not please them?” Tom asked as he led her to the dance floor.

Hermione hadn’t had a dance partner in years. She had always just accepted a few dances here and there with her father before she’d go off and wonder around the castle before returning to her parents and take in the inquisitive questions from her parent’s friends until the party ended and it was deep into the early morning. 

The instrumental music slowed down into what Hermione was somehow able to identify as Song of the Time by Abel Korzeniowski.

“You dance?” Hermione asked after the first minute had passed with her in his arms, and him moving her around the dance floor in sync of the beat everyone else danced to. He was careful with her, but his movements were calculated and fluid. 

“My mother taught me when I was ten. She always said that a proper man knows how to lead a woman around the dance floor,” he said to her softly.

Hermione saw the flash of pain in his eyes. She knew which mother he had been talking about and she gave him a soft look of adoration. It was clear that the mother he had before, had raised him up to be one fine gentleman. 

Hermione was caught up in her own thoughts that she hadn’t noticed when Tom drew her closer into his arms. The space between them left only thoughts of intimacy in both of their minds. Flushing under the worries of what others would think, Hermione was only grateful when the song ended and a newer, faster one began. Everyone pulled away from their partners and clapped to the band. 

Hermione found it hard to breathe after she finished clapping and motioned her head to the main doors of the Great Hall. “I need some air, care to join me?” she asked when she really wanted to ask:  _ Care to find an empty room and fuck me? _

“Of course. You did pretty much promise me a tour.”

Hermione offered a half smile and walked ahead of him. He followed her intently. Hermione could sense his impatience whenever she would have to stop, say ‘hi’, and briefly talk with family friends and introduce Tom to them before moving closer to the doors. 

The music turned over to a beautiful instrumental cover of Anastasia’s Once Upon a Dream, the haunting melody of it echoing out into the emptiness of the area just outside the Great Hall’s doors. Women were heading off to the lavatory while couples stood around, talking privately with their partners or friends. Not a single soul paid any mind to them as she led and he followed. The two walked in silence as Tom followed her down stairs, down corridors, up until they reached the doors to the courtyard. 

Hermione sighed as she reached the fresh, private air. The courtyard, a large square surrounded by walls, held beautiful trees and overgrowth of dying flowers around old stone benches that decorated around casual pathways. 

“I always come here when I come to the ball,” Hermione said softly as she took in the cold air. It was a refreshing feeling, the coldness hitting her bare skin.

Tom moved to stand in front of Hermione, looking down at her hungrily before capturing her lips. Even though he had only kissed her earlier at the house, it still felt like an eternity since then. His lips felt as if they scolded hers. It was a delicious sensation and there was so much excitement in the promise of what he would do to her when he would next get the chance to. She had to pull back for a moment and look up at Tom to catch her breath.

A movement across the courtyard caught her eye and among the darkness barely lit by the sconces on each side of the main doors, the moonlight offered little hope. Her eyes tried to focus on where she had seen the movement. She thought they were alone. Barely any of the other guests know how to make it out to the courtyard. 

Tom look around and shook his head. “There’s no one here, Hermione,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s just you and I,” he said in a softer voice as he went in for another kiss.

Hermione shook her head. “I could have sworn…”

Tom’s lips formed a thin line as he thought for a moment and softly motioned his head in the direction of the doors. “Let’s just head inside. It’s cold out here anyway,” he said softly as he wrapped a warm arm around Hermione, making her realizing that she had begun to shiver.

Hermione never liked the cold, but had a love for what came with it between the pumpkins, beautiful fallen leaves, cold rainy afternoons meant for reading...

Tom led Hermione back through the doors and into the warmth of the castle. Since the thought of movement out in the courtyard, the corridor felt eerie to Hermione with no one around. 

Tom unwrapped his arm from around Hermione and tried the closest door they came across. After finding it unlocked, the insides were dark, but the glowing moonlight showed them outlines of old piles of paperwork and boxes. A desk sat over by the window with an old chair at it, suggesting that it had once been an office not too long ago, which was quite odd to Hermione. 

The castle had always been empty to the public except for the annual Samhain ball. Seeing the contents of the room made her question it all. Had Hogwarts been used for anything else than what they wanted the public to know about? Her thoughts were suddenly ripped from her when she heard the sound of the door closing behind her. She turned to find Tom with his hand on the doorknob. It was too dark to see him, but in the stillness of the room, she could hear his breathing. It was deep, and it was ragged. It wouldn’t take a scientist for Hermione to know what was going on with his mind. 

“Turn around,” Tom ordered.

Hermione obeyed instantly, turning around and faced the window again, holding her breath as she felt Tom walk up from behind her. His hands found the lace of her bodice, undoing it with haste.

“We need to finish what we started back at the house. I can’t wait any longer,” he murmured to her. 

Hermione said nothing as her eyes closed and she relished the feel of Tom’s fingers as they accidentally brushed against her skin as he undid the lacing down to her corset. Gently, careful of the expensive fabric, Tom pulled Hermione out of the dress and rested it to the side. 

The world around Hermione faded away the moment he bent her over the empty desk, yanked down her breeches just like he did back at the house, and sank his throbbing cock deep into her waiting pussy. He fucked her roughly, hungrily, soaking up the pleasure the way they fit gave him. He reached an arm around and his fingers found her swollen clit that peaked out from beneath its hood. She was so sensitive from the unfinished business back at the house that it didn’t take her long before he made her come hard, and himself following her in suit. 

 

* * *

 

The sound of crashing pottery pulled Hermione from her stupor just as Tom was finishing tying up her bodice. Her body went rigid and her head flew around to the door as her heart jumped in her chest. 

Tom hurried to finish lacing her up and then gathered himself before he yanked the door opened. Hermione hurried to his side, both of their heads sticking out into the corridor. There in plane sight, a ways down the hall, a bust laid shattered against the floor. Hermione hurried, her heels clicking against the stonework of the floor until she reached the bust. The column it had been sitting upon held a plaque reading out: “Salazar Slytherin”

Tom stared at the name longer than Hermione, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration.

“Tom? What is it?” Hermione asked.

Tom shook his head. “Nothing. Let’s head back to the party. We should tell your father’s friend about what we found,” Tom said as he urged Hermione away from the scene.

Hermione nodded her head and followed Tom. 

 

* * *

 

There was still about three hours left of the party and Hermione was counting. The food and refreshments were all fine, as well as the music, dancing, and company, but something felt  _ off _ about Hogwarts that night. Hermione wasn’t sure how to describe it, but it was something she felt in the pit of her stomach, like a sixth sense. 

With all the pumpkin juice her and Tom had been drinking, Hermione had to excuse herself to the lavatory, which was something that had always been an interesting part of the Hogwarts to her. Walking in, there was a column showcasing old sinks and mirrors that lined it. And to the left, two walls of stalls. Whoever kept care of the castle was thorough. Everything was still in working order, despite just how old the place was.

Normally, when Hermione went to the lavatory there, there would be other women there, either gossiping or checking on their makeup and costumes, but this time, it was just Hermione. A discomfort fell upon her the same way the fallen bust had. It took her a moment to make herself comfortable enough to relieve herself. When she flushed the toilet and straightened her skirts, she came out of the stall and found a woman standing at the sink facing the aisle of stalls. 

What chilled Hermione’s bones was the fact that there was no reflection of the woman provided. Hermione then paused when she noticed what was standing at the woman’s feet. A bloody knife. 

Hermione covered her mouth and forced herself to find her strength. For a moment, she thought she had drunk too much pumpkin juice, but she reminded herself that she didn’t even have enough to get a buzz. 

“H-hello,” Hermione called out to the woman.

The woman turned around, revealing a stark-white face with wide eyes and glasses adorning the round face. Her hair sat in braided pigtails on each side of her face. She wore robes that looked like a student’s from a private school.

“You think you know him, but you don’t,” said the woman.

Hermione shook her head. “Sorry?”

“Tom Riddle is a bad man,” the woman said as she turned back to the mirror. 

_ Tom Riddle _ . That was Tom’s name before he had been adopted back by his fraternal mother. Surely she wasn’t being serious, or maybe she was just fucking with Hermione. There was no such thing as ghosts…

Or at least, that what Hermione had thought.

“Okay,” Hermione said, making an escape for the bathroom.

The door closed before Hermione and she couldn’t help but let out a terrified noise that stuck in her voice, suddenly afraid of being too loud. She turned around to look at the woman to see her bleeding all over the floor now. Hermione’s eyes widened at the scene.

The woman held her knife out at Hermione. “He did this!” she screeched suddenly. “He killed us all!” she screamed as she suddenly charged at Hermione.

The fight or flight instinct hiccuped in Hermione as terror spread through her. She couldn’t move her feet. All she could do was let out a blood curdling scream, anticipating the feel of the knife.

Instead, she felt a cold air wash over her, like a puff of a chilling breeze. Her eyes opened to the dark and stillness of the woman’s lavatory. She looked down at herself, looking for the knife, or a wound. She half-expected adrenaline to mask the pain, but she was never even touched. 

She let out a heavy breath, which turned into something short of hyperventilation. She bent over at the nearest sink, trying to find her strength and recollect her emotions. 

When she left the lavatory and found tranquility at the staircase that lead to the Great Hall. Others were there, talking. Hermione pulled her phone out from her small handbag, surprised at having some signal. She pulled up her searchbar.

“Secrets of Hogwarts Castle,” she inserted into it.

_ Hogwarts opens its doors as a private school. Mass murder leaves 39 dead, 42 injured at Hogwarts Private School; Doors forced closed. Murderer of Hogwarts Private school wanted for 39 deaths. Albus Dumbledore fights to get rid of the Murder Case. _

It was all Hermione found. Panic was beginning to sink in. How didn’t she know about it? Why didn’t her father say anything it? It was a case that had happened approximately five years before -- surely it was something Hermione would have heard of from the news or from school. 

She felt sick, that’s what she truly felt. Sick with horror, so much confusion, with a hint of suspicion. Not many knew Tom’s old family name, and surely no one at the party knew who he was other than the boy who had been adopted by Mrs. Granger. It was Mr. Granger’s idea, after all, to hide the fact that Tom was also Mrs. Granger’s biological son, so that made the case all the more secretive. 

Wanting clarity, she pushed herself up the stairs and into the Great Hall where Tom stood talking to Mr. and Mrs. Granger about something. Hermione came up to them and they all offered her a loving smile. 

“Where did you run off to?” Tom asked her.

“Lavatory,” she told him.

He nodded his head simply and Hermione eyed him more careful than ever. If it was Tom who did what she had found on the internet, if he was hiding something, he was done one hell of a job of it. She didn’t even sense a slip of character.

“We were just talking about how it was getting late. Would you like to head home, Hermione?” Mrs. Granger asked.

Hermione nodded her head. She had enough for the castle.

 


End file.
